


He came back

by MaddyBoo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, porn what plot/porn without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyBoo/pseuds/MaddyBoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey there little motherfucker.” Gamzee says with a grin as he looks down at you.</p>
<p>Words refuse to surface in your brain as you draw up a blank, just standing in front of the taller male, mouth slightly agape as you take in the fact that he is actually standing in front of you. Gamzee motherfucking Makara is standing at your door, with the same stupid fucking clown makeup covering his face, with the same casual and not caring manner, with the same deep rumbling voice that can go from sounding relaxed to raging in a second, he is standing in front of you after having disappeared from your life five months ago without a word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He came back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shelby](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shelby).



> I'm warning you guys that this is my first time ever writing smut
> 
> This is for my friend Shelby who I promised to write a gamkat for them a while ago.

With the sigh of all sighs puffing out of your lungs you plop down into your computer seat. Okay, you need to actually fucking study for world history this time. You can’t half-ass this like you did last night when you flipped on the television to a romcom that you ended up watching and justified it by studying during the commercial breaks. Even though you looked over your pages of seemingly endless notes while commercials for vagisil and a new juice brand rolled across the screen didn’t mean you took in a single word from your studying material, instead thinking about how Ashton Kutcher and Natilie Portman in No Strings Attached would get over their fucking asses and just get together.

So now thanks to your wonderful fucking procrastination, you need to study your ass off with the test being bright and early tomorrow morning. To make everything worse you have to pass it with at least a B+ in order to keep the scholarship that allowed you attend this college in the first place.

Taking five minutes to search for your favorite pen, the one that glides effortlessly across the blank pages of a notebook and makes you feel like fucking Vincent Vangouh of writing, before flipping open your notes to the first page. Glancing through the page filled top to bottom with your rushed, awful handwriting you’re happy to realize that you still remember most of this from the beginning of the semester except a few facts such as the exact date when a war happened or what ruler was in what era.

You spend the next two and a half hours in a comfortable routine, reading over your notes and rewriting the things you’ve forgotten, every now and then opening up your textbook or going on a search engine online to make sure what you wrote down is correct and when you don’t feel like searching the book for information. The textbook has been flipped to the page where some wonderful fucking addition to humanity everywhere had decided the page needed a detailed drawing of a dick, fucking perfect. Then again you really shouldn’t complain since you bought it used for about half the price of the normally overpriced book.

When the words you’re reading begin to blur together into a black fuzzy line you rub at your eyes, grumbling as sleep weighs in on you heavily. The alarm clock on top of your pile of Romance movies says it is nine thirty with its all too bright red numbers. It wouldn’t hurt to take a little break before trying to burn the rest of the information into your brain for tomorrow. 

A satisfying crack sounds throughout your dorm room when you stand up, stretching. Pulling your hoodie so it sits the right way on your frame you make your barefooted way through the small room towards the kitchen, curling your toes as the sudden carpet turns into freezing tile against your feet. 

Shuffling through a cupboard you find a can of chicken noodle soup and pull it out, accidently setting it down on the counter too hard and sending a loud noise throughout the quite dorm room. It takes longer to find the can opener which appears just a second before you lose patience and just took a damn knife to the metal. Quickly attaching it to the ridge you turn the handle, thankful that your last roommate had left this behind in his hurry to get out. You’re not sure where he went, nor do you really give a single shit about what happened to that sack of steaming shit. He was a complete asshole who thought he was a big fucking man by stringing people along in his love life, making them believe that he loved them before moving to the next girl not even a week later without a single glance backwards, leaving you to deal with them whenever they came by looking for him. 

You didn’t feel a single bit of guilt the day you had punched him right in his disgusting, lie spewing mouth.

You grimace at your meal as the noodles flop down into the bowl, splashing broth onto the counters. You can’t wait for the day when you can afford more than canned soup, ramon noodles, and cereal. When that day arrives you will fucking gorge yourself on food with some actual taste rather than this watered down slop. Once all of the noodles and chicken chunks have gone into the bowl you toss the can into the garbage and shove the soup into the microwave, setting the time for a minute. 

As you wait for the microwave to ding you walk back into the main room, picking up the remote and with a twitch of your thumb turn the small television on. While in the middle of changing the channel the loud bing you’ve been waiting for rings through the room. You set the TV onto some kid show as you get up and walk back into the kitchen, almost burning your hands as you remove the bowl and hurriedly set it on the counter, broth sloshing out of the side. 

A groan sounds from your throat in annoyance. You tear a piece of paper towel off the roll and with a quick swish of your hand, clean up the mess. You almost stumble over you own feet as you rush through the small space, ignoring the pain in your hands from the burning bowl as you try to reach the table by the side of your bed. With a sigh you flop down onto the bed, retrieving the remote and turning the channel onto a rerun of Desperate House Wives. 

After rearranging your pillows behind you to stand against the wall so you can comfortably lean back into them you pick up the soup and nestle it next to you in the covers. Filling a spoonful you blow on it until it’s not visibly steaming before eating the contents of it. The warm liquid trickles down your throat and into your stomach, warming you from the inside out. A handful of spoonfuls of the soup you feel toasty warm, having fighting off the chill of a winter night.

An episode and a half later you’ve eaten all of the noodles, leaving the chicken chunks at the bottom and are just getting around to trying to convince yourself that you need to get your lazy ass up and go back to cramming when there’s a knock at your door. 

With a quick glance at the clock you see it’s eleven. Who the fuck is bothering you at eleven?

Slowly sliding off the bed you snatch up your bowl to set it in the sink before opening the door. As you gently set it in the sink another slow, drawn out knock sounds that automatically rubs you the wrong way. Fuck them for bothering you at eleven in the fucking night and expect you to be rushing to greet their douche ass.

“Hold the fuck up asshole, I’m coming!” you shout while padding your way to the impatient fuckwad.

You sure to god if this is the RA again about you yelling profanities you are going to rip him a fucking new asshole just so he can have a choice in the morning which one he ones to shove his head into.

You open up the door, mouth already starting to form the angry words at whoever the fuck this dicklicker is and what the fuck he wants until you get a view of the person standing in front of you, causing the words to sputter in the back of your throat and die on your tongue.

“Hey there little motherfucker.” Gamzee says with a grin as he looks down at you.

Words refuse to surface in your brain as you draw up a blank, just standing in front of the taller male, mouth slightly agape as you take in the fact that he is actually standing in front of you. Gamzee motherfucking Makara is standing at your door, with the same stupid fucking clown makeup covering his face, with the same casual and not caring manner, with the same deep rumbling voice that can go from sounding relaxed to raging in a second, he is standing in front of you after having disappeared from your life five months ago without a word.

Ever since the fight between you two you had never imagined you would see him again, believing you had fucked up your friendship with him. The fight had started because you hadn’t been able to shut the fuck up and just be happy with what you had with him. It wasn’t the best relationship, not even close. You had been friends with him since high school and he had followed you to college not because he had good grades but because his father wanted him to go here and he was loaded enough to pay for it, not giving a shit that Gamzee was only going to blow all his classes off. It’s not that Gamzee isn’t smart, it’s just that he doesn’t see the point in learning the things he has classes for, taking a bigger interest in chasing the high feeling from weed that controls his anger. 

It had started slow, with Gamzee giving you small kisses that you would flush and flip out over. Soon those kisses would turn to make out sessions that turned into roaming hands. It had been in your junior year of high school that you had sex with him. 

You hadn’t expected it to happen. You were just hanging out in his room like normal, doing your homework while yelling at him to put the god damned joint down so he could do his own work. His answer had been to put the joint out and pulling you into a makeout session on his bed. Looking up into his eyes when he stared down at you, asking if you were sure about doing it, you realized that over the course of the two years you had known him you had fallen in love with the fool, believing he might very well return your feelings. With this hope in mind you told him to get the fuck on with it.

Afterwards, curled up next to him coming down from your high with him nuzzling his face into your hair he whispered soft words that shattered your heart.

“You’re the best motherfucking friend a brother could all up and ask for.”

You were glad when he passed out before you had a chance to take in what he said, a chance to let the shock drain away into heartbreak. That night you had cried next to his sleeping form until you fell asleep. 

Even though you had hoped your relationship with him would have become romantic you still stayed best friends with him. You continued to be his friends with benefits for around two years, every time you would feel sick afterwards knowing that he would never return the love you held for him, something you learned to accept. 

When he had begun to hang out with a guy named Tavros you couldn’t stop the anger and jealousy boiling inside you every time he left you to go hang out with him. You watched Gamzee change, witnessed him falling head over heels for this guy, this guy that most certainly was not you. You had tried your hardest to support him even though it had killed you inside a little more with every word you said to support him chasing a relationship with someone else. 

One day you had too much of everyone’s bullshit and snapped at Gamzee, yelling and screaming in a fit you knew you were going to regret but you couldn’t stop. When you told him to get the fuck out he did exactly as you asked, he got the fuck out and straight into the arms of Tavros.

And now here he is again, standing in your doorway looking almost the same as the day he had left you behind five months ago.

“Karbro? Are ya motherfucking there? C’mon now my miraculous brother, don’t leave a poor motherfucker standing out here.” Gamzee’s waves his hands in front of himself to get your attention.

Blinking yourself out of your trance you close your mouth with a soft audible clicking of teeth, bringing your mind back to the situation on hand instead of taking a trip down memory lane. 

Before you realize what you are doing you are attaching yourself to the taller male, arms firmly held around his neck which automatically causes you to be on your tiptoes as you bury your face into his chest. A moment later his arms are wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you close to him with a surprised chuckle rumbling in his chest. 

You currently don’t give a single fuck if you’re acting ridiculous right now, clinging on desperately to him because after weeks upon weeks of trying to gather enough balls to text him or call him or just go fucking see him he is finally here. He is finally fucking here right in your arms, warm, strong, and still with the same smell. His smell and it’s his actual scent instead of the muted one that clings to his old hoodie, the one that you wear when you want to torture yourself with his memories. The thudding of his heartbeat in his chest has every pent up emotion ease away as if it never existed in the first place.

“Don’t you ever fucking leave me like that again, asshole.” You say into his chest, the fabric of his shirt muffling your voice.

He lightly pushes away from you in order to look down at your face as he talks while you try to stop the sting of welling tears in your eyes. “Hey motherfucker, don’t be getting your sad on. I’m here now and I’m not gonna leave my brother again. That is if ya all up and let a motherfucker inside.” He grins down at you.

With a light embarrassed blush spreading on your cheeks you back up, letting him into your dorm room. “Get your clown ass in here.”

He walks into the room, kicking his shoes off as he goes and heads for your bed, flopping down onto it in a lazy sprawl across the entire length like he owns the fucking place. With a roll of your eyes directed at him you close the door behind you with a clack before going to your bed, pushing Gamzee’s feet off roughly so you can sit down comfortably. 

Moving his feet off just made him sit up and lean against your pillow pile, grabbing you around your waist with a firm hand to pull you close to him. Under any normal circumstance you would be yelling that you aren’t his fucking teddy bear which he used to refer you to as but this is no normal circumstance, so instead you just move closer to him until you are flush against his side.

A silence falls between you two, the only sounds being the TV’s distant sounding voices. You mull over what to say to him, a thousand thoughts and questions flashing through your head at top speed. Shadowing those thoughts are a mixture of feelings; anger, happiness, hurt, sadness, relief. All of these conflicting things are leaving you speechless, not knowing what to feel or think so when his voice sounds next to you you’re grateful that he is ending the quiet.

“So how has my favorite miracle brother been?”

You think through everything you could tell him, like how much you’ve been studying your ass off for this test, or how you’ve been working the late hours at work and which won’t be paying you for another week meaning you have to live off your soup until then, or how Terezi hasn’t talked to you in weeks because you declined going to one of her parties because you don’t think you can handle that much socializing right now. You even debate for a moment whether or not to just finally come and tell him everything you’ve been keeping over the years, tell him how much you’re incredibly in love with the oblivious jackass. 

Instead you settle for a simple answer that won’t risk him leaving again. 

“I’m fine. And stop calling me your fucking miracle brother.” You grumble, voice lacking any malice.

“But that’s what you are. The most miraculous little motherfucker that the mirthful messiahs sent here.” You says with a ruffle to your hair.

“God damn it! I’m not your fucking dog you disgusting pile of heaping elephant shit. Ruffle my hair again and I swear to whatever fucked up clown religion you believe in that I’ll shove an elephant tusk up your ass until it comes out of your mouth.” You say angrily, swatting his hand away as an annoyed scowl crosses your features.

“I’m all tons of motherfucking joyful that you haven’t changed Karbro.” He chuckles like you just told him a fucking joke. 

You grumble a fuck you at him, face turning a light red. 

“So…how have you been?” you ask, voice softer than before. 

“I’m motherfucker perfect, now that I have my best friend.”

Holy fuck, even after five months those words hit you like a knife straight to the heart.    

“I’ve missed you too.” You say, probably the truest thing you have ever said to him about your feelings.

For the next hour or so you grow more comfortable with him until things feel like they used to be. You talk about Tavros, how much Gamzee had liked him and how he had left Gamzee for a girl named Vriska. You talk about school, about work, the newest movies coming out. You even talk about your other friends and the dumb shit you used to all do together until its past one.

You find yourself relaxing with him, the feelings you were supressing just coming together full force and all you want is him. It’s like nothing ever changed between the two of you. You should be mad at him, you should be pissed that he thinks he can just leave without a glance back and just appear at your damn door like nothing happened. You shouldn’t be feeling as happy as you are for him just to be talking to you again. 

When he stands up, saying he should be getting his motherfucking leaving on, you become scared that if he walks out of that door you’ll never see him again. 

You don’t think about how much this will hurt you later as you stand up with him, grabbing the front of his purple shirt to pull him down into a kiss. Every single feeling you’ve felt about him is now being poured into the kiss. Maybe if you kiss him hard enough he won’t leave.

With your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, one entangled in his dark, messy hair at the nape of his neck, you move your lips against his with your eyes closed so you can remember him better. Memorizing how his soft lips move against yours, how warm he is, how his teeth feel as the teasingly bit your bottom lip. His hand goes around your waist, the other one gently cupping your cheek as he tilts his head slightly for a better angle.

You let yourself get lost in this moment, never wanting it to end. His lips feel great against yours, how soft and familiar and welcoming they are. With him pressed flush against you you can’t think about anything except how your lips moving against his feels so fucking great.

Maybe it’s because of how desperately you want him, or having had to wait without knowing if you were ever going to feel him hot against you like this again, but this kiss seems so much sweeter than every other one. 

You trail your tongue along his bottom lip, the action soon followed by him leaning down, grabbing you from behind your knees and lifting you up until your legs were wrapped around his waist. 

The kisses become more sloppy, more desperate as he moves backwards, pressing your back against the wall. When Gamzee bites your bottom lip a moan sounds in the back of your throat that you would have been embarrassed about if you were able to give a fuck right now. In retaliation you grind your hips against his that has him groaning. With his attention currently directed on the feeling of your crotch rubbing against his you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth.

You find yourself exploring his moist mouth with your tongue, trying to burn the way it feels into memory. You need to be able to remember how this feels, need to stow away the feeling of his tongue rubbing against yours into your mind in case he ever leaves you again. You have to relearn every inch of his body, every noise so you can commit them to memory.

And that’s exactly what you do. You take your time tasting him, finding the same smoky taste still there. You lightly bite his bottom lip to draw out that low groan you know he’ll make so you can store it away in the back of your mind for lonely nights. Soon his tongue is in your mouth, running over every inch, making you groan in response to it.

The kiss continues until you feel pleasantly dizzy, both of you breathing hard. You pull away first in order to catch some air which only has Gamzee moving down to your jawline. He kisses down your neck until he reaches the pale skin at your clavicle where he takes the skin in his mouth to start sucking on, a soft moan falling from your kiss swollen lips and eyes fluttering shut. 

The lack of friction on your erection is driving you crazy so you begin to rub against him, doing it to try and relieve some of the pressure instead of just to tease him. He returns the movements, rutting into you while pressing you into the wall. He bites down on the skin he has been sucking almost hard enough to be painful.

 “Gamzee, fuck. Go to the…fucking bed.” You say as he continues to mark your neck.

“Ha, still as motherfucking impatient as always.” Gamzee chuckles against your skin. He trails small kisses up your neck until you can feel his hot breath in your ear. “We don’t need a bed motherfucker, I could just fuck you straight through the wall.”

His words send a shiver down your spine.

It takes you minute before you can speak. “The lube is under the bed.” 

 Without saying anything he makes his way towards your bed, making you yelp in surprise when he squeezes your ass. He unceremoniously drops you into your bed and he takes this chance to settle himself between your legs before you can try and right yourself. He doesn’t give you a second before he’s grinding down on your hips hard. As he covers your body with his, licking and biting at your lips you slide your hands up his back, trying to remove his shirt from him so you can feel his bare skin against yours.

Gamzee must have had the same idea because he moves back, kneeling in between your legs, and pushes his hands under your hoodie, making you gasp from his cold skin. In a fluid movement he has your shirt off and thrown haphazardly to the floor, his own shirt following closely behind. He kisses down your torso while his hands go to the top of your pants, unbuttoning them with a quick precise movement and tugging them off your hips until all that remains are your boxers.

He grabs your length through the thin cloth and gently squeezes, watching for your reaction with a knowing smirk on his face. You whine and squirm beneath him. He was always able to make you come undone with the right pressure here, the right words there and after months of missing this he is coming back with a vengeance as he leans down, his hot mouth covering the tip. The cloth becomes moist with his spit and your pre-cum. Your body tries to buck up into the warmth of his mouth but his hands press down on your hips, holding you down into the mattress You whine as he goes back to teasing you through your boxers.

He removes his mouth only to use his teeth to grab the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down over your erection until it’s free of the suffocating fabric. The shock of cold air on your most sensitive bits has you gasping in a sharp breath. 

The cold is chased away by warmth just as quickly as it had appeared in the first place when he licks a strip from the base to the head, making you shudder with pleasure. He continues to pepper it with kisses and licks with a grin on his face, all the while holding your hips down. When his mouth envelopes the head of your erection all you want to do is thrust up into the warm, moistness of his mouth. It is driving you fucking crazy that he stays right where he is, using the flat of his tongue to lick the pre-cum off the tip, never moving farther down on your member no matter how much you whine for him to. All the while he’s looking up at you, causing your cheeks to burn red and you can’t look away because fuck, is that hot.

“Gamzee, I swear to fucking god I am going to kill your worthless ass if you don’t stop being such a cock tease you blistering fuck!” your voice wavers as you speak.

After giving a hard suck he pulls off with a wet pop. “But it’s fun seeing my little miracle brother all up and coming undone below me.” 

While he unbuttons his own pants, pulling down both his pants and boxers in the same motion you slide the rest of your boxers off your legs and kick them off to the side. Leaning up on your elbows you look Gamzee’s body over, noticing he gained a few more tattoos, his abs still as firm as the last time you saw them, but when you look down at his member you find yourself faltering. 

You had forgotten how fucking big he was, longer and a bit wider than your own. Did he fucking grow over the past months? Now the arousal that had been burning in the pit of your stomach has turned into butterflies of nerves after seeing him. 

“Like what you see Karbro?” Gamzee asks, making your face heat up as you realize just how long you had been just staring. 

“I just…having done this in a while.” You say.

“Don’t worry brother, I’ll go easy on you.” He says with a grin putting his hands under your knees, and spreading you. 

His face returns back between your legs, although this time his attention is diverted elsewhere. His tongue brushes over your entrance as his hands slid under your ass, gripping it and lifting so he had a better angle. Reaching your hands down you grip his hair when his tongue slides past your ring of muscle and twirls inside of you, a breathy moan coming from your kissed swollen lips. 

His tongue continues to slide in and out of you at a fast pace, rubbing the sides of your walls that it can reach. The feeling has you squirming beneath him with the need to feel full.

He pulls away, leaning to the side of the bed with his arms searching blindly underneath it for the bottle of lube. He comes back with it tightly grasped in his hand, flipping the cap open and squeezing a generous amount onto his finger. He sets it aside before pressing that digit gently against your entrance, spreading the cold gel on the ring of muscle before pushing the finger inside of you. A rush of air escapes through your lips at the pressure. He rubs your walls with the gel, thrusting his finger in and out before sliding in a second, stretching your farther. You close your eyes tightly at the uncomfortable feelings as he begins to scissor you, knowing that soon it will feel good as long as you get through this part. He is almost able to reach your prostate gland when he slides the third digit inside, almost. 

It’s kind of painful, laced with the promise of pleasure with every rub against your walls, so close to your prostate yet so far away. You can’t stand this feeling so you start to rock down on his fingers, needing him to hit the right spot. He pulls out after you thrust downwards onto him, making your eyes fly open to look at him, scared you fucked something up but he’s smirking at you as he grabs the bottle from beside himself again.

“You’re so motherfucking pitiable like this brother. So ready to all up and become nothing but a needy mess. You don’t need to worry Karbro. I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my motherfucking name.”  

He had always been one for talking dirty talk, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy hearing it from him.

He doesn’t take his eyes off your face as he spreads the lube from the palm of his hand onto his member, looking at the bright flush on your cheeks and ears, meeting your wide brown eyes with his own half-lidded gaze.

Normally you wouldn’t have become the whining mess of need you are currently so fast. You had gotten used to the taller males teasing and husky words and you learned how to give him the same, had figured out what drove him the most crazy until he was squirming beneath you even if him bottoming never lasted long. But this isn’t normal. You have missed him out of your fucking ass for months and now he was with you again. It wasn’t the beautiful memories that you pulled up while the heat pooled in the pit of your stomach on lonely nights, the only thing to relieve it being your own hand. It isn’t even a fantasy you were able to craft. This is fucking real. He is here again.

Just to prove to yourself that it is him, that he’s here, you lift up off your elbows and kiss him as he lubes himself up. While your thin fingers tangle into his mane of a hair, pulling just the way that has him releasing the most delicious moans into your mouth, he leans his body over your own. 

He leans back without ever breaking the kiss. His hands swiftly go under your knees, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders. Pulling away from the kiss your hands fall next to you on the bed and he looks down at you, a light twinkling in his eyes. 

Leaning down to your ear he breaths the words into it hotly. “You’re so motherfucking gorgous Karkat.” 

The words leave his beautiful mouth into your ear as he pushes his length inside of you.

You gasp from the feeling of being spread more, closing your eyes against the uncomfortable feeling and having to remind yourself that it will go away soon to be replaced by the body wracking pleasure you need. Your lip is caught between your teeth while he slowly pushes all the way in to the hilt, licking and sucking your ear and neck every time a whimper sounds in your throat. 

He stills for a second, letting you adjust, before he starts to roll his hips into you. You’re grateful he starts out slow rather than his usual fast pace. As he starts to thrust into you the dull pain ebbs away. His breathing is heavy and warm next to your ear and you love how familiar this is to you, how familiar he is to you.

 “You’re so…motherfucking tight. So…hot. Motherfucking… mirthful… messiahs you feel so good. ” He grunts into your ear while you moan.

The first time he brushes against your prostate the feeling sends shivers throughout your body, causing the heat in the pit of your stomach to start swirling. The loud moan you made alerted Gamzee to the fact he had hit your sweet spot. He thrusts into you a few more times until your breath is hitching in your throat as he hits the spot straight on, making your toes curl with a complimentary moan.

He positions himself in a way that has him hitting your prostate dead on every time. You’re crying out loudly as your legs wrap around the back of his necks, crossing at the ankles so you can rock into him in time with his thrusts.

Clamping a hand over your mouth your try to muffle the escalating sounds that you are almost screaming out. You don’t even realize that you have your other hand grasping around your erection, trying to relieve the pressure until Gamzee’s hand is around your wrist and pulling it away from your throbbing dick.

“Not yet my…impatient…best friend. Cant…have you…ending before I all up… and get through.” He says in between thrusts.

You look at him with pleading eyes but he doesn’t let go so you clench his hand, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing.

He thrusts into you hard, a loud Gamzee being stopped by your hand. 

When he suddenly stops moving inside of you, staying still with just the head of his dick inside of your entrance. Your eyes snap open as annoyance rears up inside you because he fucking stopped when it was feeling so fucking good. 

“What the fuck asshole?!?!” You ask in annoyance. 

He looks back at you. “Don’t stop me from hearing all of your miraculous sounds.”

You glare up at him for a moment, him having done this to you before, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have neighbors. You try to push your hips down in order to make him enter you farther but he doesn’t move. Usually if you did that he would groan and continue but now he is unyielding. 

You can feel the red spread hotter across your cheeks as you reply. “…fine.”

He grins and begins to move again inside you, the pleasure returning with such a sudden force that your eyes roll back in your head. Your hand automatically goes to cover your mouth as you moan loudly enough that the sound reverberates around the room but you stop yourself by clutching the sheets beneath you. 

He is mercilessly pounding into you, the symphony of a creaky bed, heavy breathing intermingled with moans, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. As his motions begin to get more erratic and hits your prostate again you’re coming hard, your vision blanking out and body trembling from the force of it. In your release you squeeze around Gamzee’s length, making him come inside of you with a loud groan. Your loud pitched Gamzee is followed by a low tone of Karkat from your partner.

He rides out his orgasm with a few more slow thrusts before callapsing on you without pulling out. You can hear someone in the room next to you yelling through the thin plaster for you two to shut up but in the afterglow you wouldn’t even care if the world was ending.

For once in the past few months you feel perfect. Him being with you, his breath mingling with yours while entangled together in between the sheets is bliss. You don’t care that your own cum is covering your stomach and chest, leaving a sticky mess. You don’t even have enough negative feelings inside you right now to complain about Gamzee coming inside of you…again. You can’t even bring yourself to worry about how this night will affect your state of mind later knowing that he only sees you as a friend.

When he pulls out of you and turns to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with the most satisfied expression you have ever seen on him before, an expression that you made appear on his face, you prop yourself up onto an elbow to look down at him. Your fingers trace over every inch of skin on his chest, following the linework of tattoo’s he has gotten. 

You give him a small, happy smile as he looks at you. “You’re the best motherfucking friend a bro could ask for.”

The pain is dull in your heart as he says it, but you’re sure it’ll grow when he’s gone. Instead of dwelling on the fact that he still doesn’t see you as anything more you give him a chaste kiss on the lips before cuddling against his side. 

You know that someday, you’re going to have to tell him how you really feel about him, but that day isn’t today. So you tuck all of those feelings away in order to just be happy that you have him at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors.


End file.
